


I Live For...

by hashtag_anthems



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Soft Ending, Suicidal Ideation, i tend to err on the side of caution, pls read that before reading the fic, post-near-death-experience, repercussions of white magic, take care of yourselves, the author’s note has an explanation of the potentially sensitive content, the m rating is for the content bc idk I thought it got a little dark in the middle, there is definitely no character death, warning for something close to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashtag_anthems/pseuds/hashtag_anthems
Summary: Hubert has never been particularly faithful, so maybe that’s why he’s having such an adverse reaction to the white magic that saved his life. He’s in the best condition he’s ever been in, but he’s supposed to be dead.Ferdinand tries to help.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98
Collections: Sun & Moon 《Ferdibert》





	I Live For...

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks again to my roommate MidoriMint for beta reading this. I didn’t spend a lot of time editing it, so if I catch any grievous mistakes, I’ll edit them this weekend lol. Hope you enjoy. (Edit2: formatting should be fixed. I did a dumb trying to upload it the first time and didn’t have time to fix it until now.)
> 
> Content Warning: Better safe than sorry, I guess. Hubert isn’t suicidal in this, but his thoughts do mirror those of suicidal ideation at times, including discussion of dying for others and insisting that he should be dead. His body and mind are still processing the stress of coming close to death and then being forcibly brought back to perfect health in less than a day’s time, and he’s pretty disoriented, so some of the sentiments in here could be triggering to people who are sensitive to topics like suicide. Please take care of yourself and don’t read this if you think it might be too much for you. 🧡🖤

_The turmoil… the dissonance wracking his brain… the sense of baseless dread…_

Hubert had never felt better in his life. The dull ache that permeated down to his very bones was gone. He hadn’t felt this energized in as long as he could remember. He felt ready to charge an army alone. He could singe-handedly topple the church with this kind of vitality. He could —

He could do nothing but lay here in his bed, head in the lap of his beloved, and try to silence the screaming terror in his mind.

“It takes some getting used to, does it not?”

Ferdinand was running his fingers through Hubert’s hair. It felt amazing and wrong and comforting and condemning and and _and —_

“Try to think of other things. It helps to avert your focus. Think about … the roses in. The tea pavilion. Think about how they smell in the early spring, right after a rain shower, when you’re sitting there with a pile of sweets and a pot of fresh coffee.”

“I shouldn’t be alive to think about such things,” Hubert said. He cursed the tremor in his voice. It was normal, they said, the terror and anxiety after such an extensive healing spell, the cognitive dissonance from living in what should be a dead body.

“Stop that. Indulging those thoughts will only feed into them further.” Ferdinand put his free hand on Hubert’s chest, right over his heart. Right over the unmarried flesh covering healthy lungs and a racing heart. A heart that less than a day prior —

Hubert sat bolt upright, ripping Ferdinand’s hands away from him. His touch was too much, not enough, too real, too far away, too —

“Hubert, do not strain yourself!” Ferdinand cautioned him.

He couldn’t if he tried. He was in the best shape of his life — a life that should be over. A life that was cut short by cold steel, rippling through his unguarded flesh, stealing the very breath from his body and the blood from his veins and there was nothing to show for it why was there _nothing_ there he should be in agonizing pain and fighting for his life and yet —

Hey, slow down. Listen to me.” Ferdinand’s tone was sharp, but anything less would have been drowned out by the screaming sense of _wrong_ rooted in the wounds that weren’t there and winding its thorny vines around every last one of Hubert’s thoughts until they didn’t even feel like his own anymore.

“I should be dead, Ferdinand. I should be lying in my grave, not lying in my bed, having my hair played with and thinking about — about damned _flowers!_ ”

“Then think about why you are _not_ dead. Think about _why_ you still live. What would happen to the Emperor if you were slain, if you were not there to guard her? Where would the Empire be without your guidance? Yes, you _should_ have died from that blow, and a lesser man may have perished, but you did _not_ die, and there is a _reason_ for that.”

“The _reason_ is that Linhardt and Manuela and the others all used their magic to cheat death. I should be dead or dying, yet here I am, arguing with you instead!” It wasn’t meant to be an argument. It wasn’t Ferdinand’s fault that Hubert never saw the front lines, never saw combat without at least a dozen men sent ahead to thin the enemy ranks first. It wasn’t Ferdinand’s fault that he was cavalry, better armored, less likely to take such a catastrophic attack. It wasn’t Ferdinand’s fault that white magic was as much a curse as it was a blessing. It wasn’t Ferdinand’s fault that Hubert had never been in a position to require such an intense effort to save his life before.

Everything was wrong. Everything was opposite the way it should be. Everything was upside down and backwards and —

None of it was Ferdinand’s fault, yet here they were, bickering like they were still students…

“I didn’t mean… I know you’re only trying to help.” The guilt didn’t help the panic clinging to his insides and twisting them all around.

“No, I was too harsh. Healing magic can be… disorienting when you do not often receive it. I forget that you have far less experience in such areas than I…”

“That still doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

“But it does explain it, and I should have known better than to push you so hard.”

“Would you shut your mouth and just accept the apology before I decide to rescind it?” Hubert asked. He wasn’t sure whether the chuckle he cut himself off with was scared or amused. Maybe both. It was a strange place, his mind right now. The sooner this all wore off, the better… “You of all people should know how rare they are.”

“Not unless you accept mine first!” Ferdinand was laughing now. Such pure joy… Hubert desperately needed the warmth in Ferdinand’s laugh right now. It was a much better sound than the constant scream of fear and disorientation in his mind,

“You know, you don’t give yourself enough credit.” Hubert could take advice when he needed to, and Ferdinand was right. Thinking of his reasons for living was better than thinking about his body’s insistence that he should be dead, his mind’s constant refrain of anxiety and grief over something that hadn’t come to pass after all.

“An apology _and_ a compliment, in the same day? You must be feeling downright generous.”

Hubert had to consciously make an effort not to roll his eyes. His head was spinning enough as it was. “I’m simply saying that… I _do_ think about why I’m alive, every day. Yes, I serve the Emperor, and the Empire, but… they aren’t why I still live. Not anymore.”

“You are beginning to sound downright treasonous. Hubert von Vestra, the poster boy for Imperial loyalty, living for something _other_ than the Emperor. Perhaps _I_ am the one out of my right mind.”

“No, I would _die_ for Lady Edelgard.” He almost _did_ die for her. “I live for someone else.”

“Oh, and who might that be?” Ferdinand and Hubert both knew the answer to that, but Ferdinand had a playful grin on his face that Hubert took to mean he should play along.

“He’s brave, and noble, and selfless, and he has _terrible_ taste in beverages, but I can’t seem to mind even that anymore.” The dread weighing on his heart dulled just the slightest when Ferdinand started sputtering his indignation. For a moment, Hubert could think clearly again. “I could keep going?” he offered.

“May I please kiss you before you start insulting me again?”

“You mistake my intentions,” Hubert said before leaning in to kiss him first. Ferdinand was soft, and gentle, and warm, and Hubert hadn’t noticed the tension he was carrying until it melted away, shooed from even the corners of his mind by Ferdinand returning the kiss.

By all accounts, Hubert should have died, but he had pretty good reason to keep on living.


End file.
